The Private Life of Greg Lestrade
by scribblingnellie
Summary: Detective Inspector Lestrade, one of Scotland Yard's finest, likes to keep his private life private. Away from colleagues, the Yard and Sherlock Holmes. A new multi chapter Greg-centric story - there'll be short chapters, long chapters, angst, drama, family, happiness, friendship, feels and possibly a little romance. Many thanks for reading!
1. precipice

precipice

This was it. Once he'd made the decision there was no going back. He couldn't go back.

Picking up the envelope, he turned it over in his hands. She was desperate; he wasn't replying to her texts anymore, not answering her calls. And he'd changed the locks.

So, a letter.

Open it? Did he really want to read what his wife had to say? What was there to say?

He'd let Sherlock's comment slide; true, the younger man was never usually wrong, but Greg still stalled. Until he'd walked in on her on the phone to the PE teacher - _No, Greg doesn't know. He's easy to fool that way._ Letting his keys drop loudly onto the kitchen bench, he'd stood stock still as she jumped, spinning round to face him. Guilt, defiance, annoyance - all crossed her face as they'd stared at each other.

She'd left that evening, her case thumping down each step. Greg watched from the kitchen doorway, whisky tumbler empty in his hand. What could he say to her? Hurt, anger, disbelief, pain, had spun around inside him. He'd held her eyes as she stood by the front door. Then he'd turned - he couldn't look at her anymore - and walked back into the kitchen. Hearing the front door close as he refilled his glass, gripping the bottle tighter. He hadn't realised he was crying until a tear hit his hand.

So, the letter. Greg pushed the memories from his head; he hadn't seen her since that night three months ago. A week after she'd gone, he'd started deleting her texts as soon as they arrived, pressing _reject_ when her number rang on his phone.

One more chance? Open her letter?

Letting the other post drop onto the hall table, Greg turned to the stairs. Slowly climbing, he stared down at the envelope. The curls of her handwriting pressed hard at his heart. He remembered the little notes she would leave for him around the house.

_I love you_

_See you tonight sexy_

Reaching the landing, Greg turned left, pushing the door of the little box room open. It'd all been by chance, hadn't it? Pulling up, he gripped the back of his desk chair. His friend's casual throw away deduction; finishing his paperwork early one night. Would he have found out his wife was having another affair if not for chance?

That was what hurt the most. Greg plonked himself down in the swivel chair, letter still held in his hand. Gullible. Was he too ready to believe the best in people? Was he too nice? Probably.

Leaning down, he flicked the switch and fed the unopened envelope through the teeth of the shredder by the desk. The loud metal grinding noise felt final. That really was it.

He'd filed the divorce papers that morning. It was over.

* * *

**After a wee hiatus, I've started a new multi chapter Lestrade story. Yay! As the title says, it's all about his private life - life away from the Yard, Sherlock, Barts, colleagues and generally being a DI. Hoping to post regularly - apologies in advance if I don't! Many thanks for reading.**


	2. float

float

Picking out each small fragment of cloud, Greg brought his hand up to shade his eyes, feeling the droplets run down his face. An almost clear blue sky - he reckoned that was pretty good for a UK summer by the sea.

The cool sensation rippled along his body, water lapping at his head as he leaned back, following the slow, lazy progress of the wisp of cloud.

No noise. He had the tiny secluded cove to himself; probably because it was 6 in the morning. Even on holiday, early starts were a hard habit to break.

He'd discovered the quiet cove on a morning jog the day after he arrived at the hidden away cottage in Cornwall. Standing on the cliff top, he'd felt pulled down towards the beach. And found himself stood with his bare feet sinking into the soft, wet sand as the gentle waves had run in and out over them. Bliss.

Closing his eyes again, Greg concentrated on the feel of the cool Cornish sea under him. Lightly lapping at his sides, tickling the tips of his ears. Back and forth, the slight motion of the waves had his body rising and falling. Rather soothing. He was tempted just to doze off, as the peace and calm took over.

When was the last time he had relaxed like this? Shut out all the stuff rushing around inside his head? When had he, in the last six months, just stopped? Was throwing himself into his work really the answer? Long days chasing the criminals of London wasn't stopping him from thinking about it or beating himself up about it. The affairs, the divorce, the jump. Guilt, blame, reproach. Even driving down the motorway, leaving London behind, his head was still full, still pounding.

But right then, waves brushing against him, water slipping over his stomach as he bobbed up and down gently, Greg's mind let it all slip. There was just him and the sea.

And a loud splashing noise.

He opened his eyes at the sound. Lifting his head, he caught the tail end of a large crash of water. Before he could catch his breath, he felt a nudge that sent him rolling over face first, back up towards the beach. Spluttering, he drew himself up out of the water, kneeling back on his heels as a blur of black Labrador bounded around him.

And such a look of pure joy on the dog's face; Greg couldn't help but laugh. Reaching out, he patted the dog's back as it came round again and was rewarded with another nudge. One final splash and it was away up the beach, its owner still some distance off at the top of the cliff path.

Letting the water lap around his legs, Greg grinned, pushing the wet hair back from his face. He had to do this more often.

* * *

**Written at the same time as chapter 1. The first thing I thought of for the prompt _float_ was lying in the sea - and was inspired by having also just come back from a few days in Dorset (gorgeous place!). Ok, and yes, partly so I could picture Lestrade in swimming shorts. :) Many thanks for reading!**


	3. imperfect

imperfect

'You're sure you want all this?'

The carrier bags were piling up by the front door; Greg had no idea what was in most of them.

'Yes!' The voice called out from the under stairs cupboard, accompanied by a loud thud.

'Beth?'

Peering round the small door, he took in the sight of the young woman, her long dark hair falling forward, head first in a large box.

'You ok in there? Need a hand?'

'No, no.. I'm ok. I got it.'

Pulling her head back, she started crawling out on her hands and knees, bottom first. Greg stepped back, holding the door wide open for her. And he couldn't help smiling - the many times he'd found his daughter curled up comfortably in the little cupboard under the stairs with her books and a few borrowed cushions, making herself right at home.

Negotiating backwards through the door, she sat back, dusting off her knees. As she pushed herself up off the floor, Beth accepted the steadying hand her father held out.

'Thanks.' Brushing dust off her jumper.

'You found it?'

Instinctively, at the sight of her hair sticking out in all directions, Greg reached over and flattened it. The dead straight dark brown locks she'd gotten from him. Though he could see his ex-wife in Beth's features - her small nose, round face, the dimple in her left cheek - the chocolate brown eyes that looked out at him were just like his.

'Dad... ' Pushing his hands away impatiently. 'Stop fussing. '

'Sorry.' Grinning, he tweaked one last strand of hair, much to her annoyance. 'So what it is?'

Closing the cupboard door with her foot, Beth picked up the small box she'd dragged out.

'Well..' Blowing dust off the top, she lifted the lid of the faded green shoe box. '...when you cleaned out my room while I was at university, and shoved all my stuff under the stairs...'

Greg held up his hands at her accusing tone.' I know, I know, I'm sorry.'

'Don't worry, I'm saving that one for later. Now, hold this.'

Feeling the box shoved against his chest, Greg grabbed it before it could crash to the floor, the dust tickling his nose. The motley collection of objects rattled as Beth delved through them. Faded plastic jewellery, lego figures, rusted badges, several bright pebbles that he knew were from their family trips to Dorset - the treasure box his daughter hadn't been able to throw away.

Watching her as she continued rummaging, pushing aside old coins and odd shaped bits of wood, Greg was struck by how much Beth had changed since she'd been away. And how much had happened since the day he'd driven her to Cambridge, the car loaded down with her bulging cases and food boxes four years ago; her mother had been in the car with them, for a start.

The memory of the shy, quiet eighteen year old, fresh from a summer working in the local bookshop, off to live away from home for the first time came back to him; he could still see Beth's nervous but excited eyes as she took in her room in the halls, her hesitation as he hugged her tight, kissing her forehead before getting back in the car. And now four years later, the confident, happy young woman she'd become stood in the hallway of her childhood home, hunting down one last memory to take with her. And to accept the offer of food and money that her ever-worrying father insisted on giving her. Well, he was allowed to worry; his only child was off again, to start her first job and move into her own flat.

'Ha!' The triumphant shout broke into his thoughts.

Greg focused on the object in her hand. And he laughed. 'Oh, you kept it!'

'Of course.' Beth grinned, turning over the small handmade card. '_DC Elizabeth Lestrade_... My own police ID badge, made with the help of my very important policeman father.'

And Greg felt her arm slip around his waist, her head leaning against his shoulder. Hugging her into his side, he placed a kiss on her head. The one thing he'd always hated about his job was all the times it took him away from her.

'I wish I'd been there more for you, Beth.'

'Dad, you were there.'

'Not all the time. I mean, the stuff I missed.'

Concerts, sports days, presentations. The time she won a gold medal at her gymnastics competition and he was working overtime on a double murder. His awkward hours meant he'd missed things that were important to her, moments he wanted to see and to share. And that'd made him determined to spend what time he could with her - breakfast together when he got in from the night shift; always a bedtime story, even if it meant she would stay awake until he got in; picking her up from school whenever he could. It hadn't been perfect; he could still remember the times when he'd had to call and tell her that he couldn't make it, and the upset in her voice would catch at his heart.

'Dad?'

'Hmm?' Snapped back to the present, Greg looked down into her daughter's face.

Head tilted to one side, her eyes serious and concerned. 'You ok?'

'Yeah, sorry, miles away.'

'Well, whatever you're thinking and beating yourself up over now, can I just say that you were a brilliant dad. You are brilliant...'

'Beth, I know it wasn't ideal, me working shifts and I wish..'

And she was shaking her head, holding up her own personally crafted police ID. 'You were there. It might not have been the same as everyone else's dads but we made it work, didn't we?'

When had his daughter become so wise? Four years at university and a whole lot of new experiences and people had definitely had a good influence on her. And had him feeling a little emotional; the baby he'd brought home from the hospital that rainy night was grown up and off out into the adult world.

'Thank you, Pea.' Greg dropped another kiss onto her head. 'Now, what d'you want me to do with all this?'

Running his fingers through the assorted treasures in the box, he picked out a misshapen brown speckled pebble, smooth against his rough hand; he could smell the sea, hear the waves crashing as he chased her along the beach all those years ago.

'Keep one thing, for me.' Beth took the box from him, replacing the lid as she set it down on the bottom step. 'Chuck the rest if you want.'

'So,' he said, slipping the pebble into his jeans pocket, 'that's everything then?'

Looking over at all the bags by the door, Beth nodded.'Yeah, I think so.'

Hearing the tiny catch in her voice, Greg reached for his keys on the hall table. 'Tell you what, let's get this lot over to your place and then go somewhere for coffee, yeah?'

Even wise, confident daughters needed their dads now and then he figured, watching her contemplate the mountain of stuff.

Beth smiled, and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. 'If you're buying, it's a deal.'

* * *

**I like the idea of Greg as a dad - I think he would make a great father! The chapters are in a sort of rough chronological order at the moment - this may change. Many thanks for reading.**


	4. elevated

elevated

_Make sure you're decent. I'll be there in 15 minutes. A x_

There's no need Anna. I'm fine. G

_You said that last time and we found you sprawled at the bottom of the stairs. A_

That was just the once I...

_And anyway, what were you doing playing football? A_

That was just the once I fell down the stairs. And my knee felt fine this morning. G

_Six weeks rest. I'm so going to have words with Ian when he gets back. A_

It wasn't his fault. I wanted to play. Going stir crazy not playing. G

_Greg, we're not as young as we used to be, none of us are. Rest means rest. A_

I know. Feel a bit of fool. Ian and Joe had to half carry me to the car. G

_Undignified. Hey, I'm passing the shop, you need anything? A_

No, don't think so. G

_Popped in anyway. Got paracetamol, milk, Independent, huge block of chocolate. Be there in few minutes. Ax_

Rather have whisky than choc. G

_Maybe when you break your leg I'll get you whisky. A_

How kind. G

_:P Seriously, big brothers, who'd have em? Ax_

You love me really. Gx

* * *

**A super quick chapter! I went through a few versions of this chapter but none seemed quite right. Inspired to try it in text message format with just a little editing, I think it gives a nice feel of the relationship between Greg and his sister! Many thanks for reading.**


	5. linger

Gathering his coat up off the chair, Greg switched his mobile over to his right ear, clamping it there with his shoulder.

'Seriously, Ian, I need an early night. This case's got me running round in bloody circles and I just want to get me head down.'

'Come on, Greg. Just a pint or two. Or a half. It'll do you good.' His brother in law was persistent, he'd give him that.

'Isn't Anna expecting you home?'

Greg waved as Donovan tapped on the half frosted glass of his office, pointing to her watch.

_Five minutes_, he mouthed.

'No. She's got her knitting group round tonight.. not that they ever get much knitting done...'

_You'd better, boss,_ Donovan replied, giving him her best concerned underling look. Greg shooed her away with a smile. If he ever did actually leave the office on time, he was sure his sergeant would pass out from the shock.

'Greg? Come on, mate, you'll thank me for it.'

Trying to shrug himself into his coat, mobile still to his ear, he turned, casting his eyes over his desk. Cigarettes?

'Thank you for it? For getting me drunk?'

Arms sort-of in his sleeves, Greg spotted and grabbed the new pack of cigarettes he'd bought on the way into work. He hadn't smoked any yet, just nice to know they were there.

'Get you drunk? Nah, I got better plans than that. See you at the Pheasant, twenty minutes.'

And the line went dead. Greg took the phone from his ear and stared at the screen. What was he going on about? Ian was never given to being cryptic - they'd met at school when Ian had told Greg his football kit was shit and he had a much cooler one he could lend him.

Better plans? What was he up to?

* * *

'You must be Greg.'

'Sorry?'

Over the ever increasing sound of a usual Thursday night down the pub, Greg caught the voice to his right. And the feel of a gentle hand on his arm. Turning, he found himself staring into the rather lovely green eyes of a woman he'd never seen before. But she obviously knew who he was.

She smiled. 'Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you.'

'Oh, no, you didn't. I just.. I'm sorry, I've no idea who you are.'

And Greg couldn't help grinning back as she laughed; her eyes brightened as she held his and he found himself caught. Long black hair fell around her face, and he noticed the flash of several silver studs in her ears.

'And yet I know you. Curious, isn't it. Lucy Stotts..' She held out her to him. 'I just joined Ian's watch. Well, I say just joined, been there a couple of weeks.'

Ah, a firefighter colleague of Ian's; that was how she knew who he was. 'Of course, yes, he did mention there was a newbie.' And he took her hand; warm and firm in his. 'Nice to meet you,'

Lucy arched her eyebrow. 'Newbie? Is that what he called me?'

While he didn't usually wish to land his best friend and brother-in-law in it, Greg couldn't help himself. He nodded, smiling. 'I'm sure he meant it in the nicest possible way.'

Shaking her head, she leaned closer towards him. 'Hmm, yeah, right. I've known Ian since he was crew manager at my first post, at Mile End; he never struck me as the 'nicest, possible way' type.'

'No, he doesn't really, does he.'

Lucy grinned. 'Definitely not.'

Catching the movement from the corner of his eye, Greg saw the barman placed the second pint of London Pride down on the bar; one for him and one for Ian.

'Can I buy you a drink?' Nodding at the glasses on the bar, Greg turned back. And felt a quick thud of his heart as she smiled up at him.

'Oh.. thank you. That'd be lovely! Pint of the same, please.'

And, as he felt the light squeeze she gave his fingers, he realised they were still holding hands. He looked down at his large hand covering hers. He squeezed back. Where they flirting? The thought, and the touch of her hand in his, pulled at his stomach. Maybe they were.

* * *

They had been keeping score but Greg'd lost count somewhere between their third round of pints and Lucy's excited jump into the air when she'd landed a bullseye. Passing the set of darts to her, Greg felt their fingers touch, and he found himself looking back into her eyes. They were an incredible dark green, and he was caught once again.

That'd been happening quite a bit over the course of the evening. He'd look up from his pint, catching her eyes across the top of his glass; would see her look over as he made his way back from the bar to the two tables their group had pulled together; Lucy looking up as he was suddenly pressed further against her side when Ian and Joe squeezed their way back onto the padded seat. Not that he was complaining.

'Greg?'

'Hmm?' He blinked and realised that he was staring. 'Oh... sorry, Lucy, I was just...'

'Staring?' A quick wink and she squeezed his hand as she took the darts. Greg was glad for the semi-darkness of the pub; she wouldn't see the colour rushing into his cheeks. And hopefully couldn't hear the few stuttering thuds his heart gave.

He was too rusty at all this. Flirting and being around a woman he liked. Sure, he'd been on dates, but nothing ever came of them. Maybe that was partly his own fault; he wasn't sure he wanted to be involved again. And after those couple of disastrous attempts at a dinner date with Molly, Greg'd figured it was probably for the best not to be. Even with the good-natured efforts of his friends, he shied away from it all, turning down offers of blind dates.

But as they'd drank and talked, in between turns at the dartboard, being squashed into the corner of the seat, and getting a round in, Greg found himself relaxing and enjoying Lucy's company. He hadn't felt that for a long time - easy and comfortable.

'Sorry.' He looked away, down to his shoes. 'I didn't mean to.. I..'

'It's ok.' And her hand was on his arm, her fingers lightly resting on his shoulder. 'I don't mind.'

Greg looked up and felt his heart jump at her smile. 'Oh, ok, right. So, um.. may I carry on staring while you throw?'

Stepping up to the mark, Lucy looked back over her shoulder, stray strands of her hair sweeping across her eyes. 'You may.'

And the soft, sexy catch in her voice made his stomach knot up. No, he definitely hadn't felt this way in a very long time.

* * *

'Can I get you a cab? Or walk you home? Oh, shit, sorry, I didn't mean..' Mortified, Greg stumbled over his words when he suddenly realised how it sounded.

Having bundled Ian and Joe into separate cabs, and the others having wandered off their respective ways, it was just him and Lucy left outside the Pheasant and Plough. The cool autumn evening was helping to clear his head rather quickly.

'I know.' Lucy tied the belt of her coat around her, smiling. 'I don't live far, if you wanted to walk me home. I'd like that. Thank you.'

'Ok,..um, great. Which way?'

'This way.' Lucy nodded down the street towards the lights.

Falling into step together, Greg was very aware of their arms touching as they moved, bumping against each other. And when her hand brushed against his, and his fingers lingered against hers, he couldn't be entirely certain it was accidental. And it was rather nice.

'Listen, Lucy, I was wondering...' Greg stopped as they reached the corner, a sudden impulse grabbing hold of his brain. '..only if you wanted to, maybe we could go out for dinner. Possibly. Not that you have to, if you don't want to..'

And he quickly shut up when he heard himself rambling on. She must think he was an idiot; a grown man not able to string a coherent sentence together.

'I'd love to.'

Had he heard right? She wanted to see him again? 'Honestly?'

'Honestly.' Lucy nodded, stepping closer. 'Dinner with a handsome copper with taste, manners and a gorgeous smile? Definitely.'

'Ah...ok, I, um.. I..'

What could he say to that? Shit, he was so out of practice. Running a hand over his hair, Greg looked up.

'You're sure? Sorry, I just..' And he found himself grinning along with her; she did have the most beautiful smile. 'I'm not really good at this anymore.'

'You're doing fine, Greg.'

Soft, tender fingers pressed against his hand, sending a spark along his skin.

'Really?'

Nodding, she slipped her arm through his; Greg felt the warmth of her against him, and his heart beat a little faster.

'Yes, really.' And Lucy reached up to place a light kiss on his cheek. 'Very fine.'

* * *

**Finally, the next chapter! With a little help from his friends, Greg finds himself in the company of a rather lovely lady. Which he seems to be enjoying. And a happy Lestrade is always a good thing. Many thanks for reading.**


	6. time

'So, our Beth tells us you've got yourself a date with a rather cool lady.'

Managing not to spray his coffee across the pile of homemade shortbread, Greg coughed as the hot liquid scalded down his throat.

Since when did his seventy nine year old father use the word _cool_? As his mother lightly thumped him on the back, and took his coffee cup from him, he tried clearing his throat.

'Henry, don't tease him.' And she rubbed her hand up and down Greg's back. 'Sorry, love. You ok?'

'Yeah...' Catching his voice, he cleared his throat again. 'Yeah, I'm ok. _Cool_, Dad?'

His father grinned, lifting his cup of coffee up in reply. 'That's what our Beth said, _a cool lady_.'

Taking the cup back from his mum, and helping himself to another shortbread, Greg shook his head. How did Beth even know what Lucy was like? Anna must have said something; those two were thick as thieves sometimes.

Though as the thought of Lucy popped into his head, he figured she probably was what his daughter would think of as cool - all long, raven black hair and silver studs. He remembered the feel of Lucy's gentle hand in his, her body pressed warmly against him, and her bright, happy eyes.

'Greg?'

'Hmm?'

And his mum was leaning forward, peering at him; a small smile crossed her face. 'You were miles away there. She must be nice, then.'

Clearing his throat again, embarrassed at being caught daydreaming, Greg concentrated on taking another sip of coffee; real roasted, brewed coffee. Since getting a proper espresso machine for Christmas, his dad had spent a lot of time making a lot of coffee and was quite the expert now.

Relishing the caffeine hit, he ate his shortbread in two quick bites before looking back at his mum. She was still looking inquisitively at him over her cup of tea; Greg smiled and felt the blush sneak quickly across his cheeks.

'Ah, now who's teasing him, Wendy!' And his dad stood up, coming round to place a strong hand on his son's shoulder. 'Now, you just ignore your mother's pestering looks there. I'm sure this lady is a lovely person and you'll both have a nice dinner together.'

Dinner? Letting out a humph, he ran a hand slowly over his face. He was seriously having words with his daughter when he called her later on.

'How much did Beth tell you?' Greg turned and eyed his father.

Laughing, Henry Lestrade shook his head. 'Now you know how she feels when you badger her about her dates.'

'True...'

Dates. The word made Greg pause. Dating. Shit. He really was, wasn't he? Of the few dates he'd had since the divorce, none had been any sort of success. And now here he was again.

'Hey, sweetheart..'

And Greg felt his mum's hand squeezing his; he looked over at her. 'Sorry.. I just..'

Pulling her chair closer, his mum put her arm around him. And the gesture took him back; way back to when he was an anxious sixteen year old, when he'd had his first rejection and his mum had made him tea and told him there was someone out there for him and he'd know when he met them. And the time, not so far back, when he'd gone round to tell them about his wife's (ex-wife, he reminded himself) latest affair and that he was going to file for divorce; a mug of strong tea and a calm, comforting arm around him took the edge off the raw pain.

'It's quite normal to be nervous, sweetheart. You'll be fine. Just remember you're a kind, caring, intelligent and rather handsome man.'

Greg smiled; his mum always knew the right things to say. 'Cheers, mum.'

'All of which makes you a great catch for any woman,' his father added, with another strong pat on his shoulder.

'Dad!'

* * *

**Greg and his parents relaxing over afternoon tea; I love contemplating the domestic side of his life. :) Many thanks for reading.**


	7. company

_So sorry Lucy, running late. Boss wants a quick word. Be there 15 minutes? Hopefully. G_

* * *

Finally. Only ten minutes late, which was better than he'd thought. Passing through the Yard's outer security gate, Greg stopped on the pavement, and took a deep breath. Right, dinner date.

Closing his eyes, he could see Lucy's smile and her gorgeous eyes. And he remembered her quick kiss on his cheek. Soft lips on his skin, her body leaning into his. Ok, probably not the right place for those thoughts. Shaking his head, he opened his eyes and took his phone from his coat pocket.

_Not a problem at all. See you at the bar! L_

He could do this. He could have dinner with a fun, intelligent, sexy woman; a woman who seemed to like his company. Being with Lucy at the pub had been easy - comfortable, straight forward - as they'd drank and talked and played darts. And flirted.

_I'm on my way now. See you soon. G_

They had, hadn't they? Flirted quite a bit as the night had progressed. Maybe he wasn't completely out of practice. Ok, so he was pretty sure he could do this; spend an evening with Lucy chatting, eating, and enjoying each others company.

_Can't wait. Pints to start? L_

Running his hand over his hair, Greg smiled. A woman after his own heart.

_Yes please. G_.

Pocketing his phone, he turned and started walking. The restaurant sign came into view as he rounded the corner. Nearly there. Just a few more steps... the restaurant door was in front of him. Greg paused.

He liked Lucy. Possibly really liked her. The feeling raced across his chest, knotting in his stomach. And then he thought of her hand on his arm, and the look in her beautiful eyes. Yes; he could do this.

Reaching for the handle, he took one more deep breath, for luck.

* * *

**Nervous Greg is always lovely! A short and sweet chapter to finish on. Many thanks for reading and thank you for the kind comments and favourites. Enjoyed writing some happiness for my favourite Inspector. Must do it again! x **


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